“What do I do?” Barbie whispered.
“Get closer to the door,” I said. “And make sure no one else is around.”
She got closer and then her gaze, and mine by extension, swept down the hallway to the right. Empty.
“Lexi,” she murmured. “I’ve got another coded door with a card swipe. Should I try to use my badge?”
“Negative,” I said. “There’s a good chance the person we took the card from doesn’t have access here. If you swipe it, it may set off an alarm. Stand by.”
Seconds stretched as I made my way through the system. I imagined the timer ticking down precious time and I started to sweat.
“You good, Lexi?” Angel asked.
“I’m good,” I finally answered. “Okay, the keypad is proprietary, but I’m in the controller. And because I couldn’t test it earlier, I’m either going to open the door or set off an alarm. It’s a fifty-fifty chance.”
“Fifty-fifty?” Barbie hissed as the lock suddenly disengaged with a soft, unmistakable click. No alarm. No blaring alert.
I released a breath. “It’s open. Go in.”
“Way to give me a heart attack,” Barbie whispered.
I watched as she pulled the door open. Dim light spilled out, revealing stainless-steel surfaces and shadowed corners. I could hear quiet shuffling, clicking, and faint whining.
She stepped inside and let the door close behind her with a clunk. “I’m inside the animal lab,” she hissed. “I don’t see or hear anyone…yet. But it smells like disinfectant and animals. We’re definitely in the right place.”
“Go get Tootsie and Ginger,” I said. “And the evidence we need to put this lab away forever. Be safe.”
Barbie didn’t respond. She was already walking deep into the lab, pulling out her phone for pictures, and not wasting any more time.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Lexi
Barbie moved deeper into the lab until she stopped in an open area lined with various lab stations and glass-walled observation rooms. She passed by one of the rooms and peeked inside. The room was empty and a single cage stood open. A stainless-steel desk with a closed laptop and sink sat in one corner of the room.
Walking on, she paused at one of the lab stations. An open laptop was running a stream of data on two connected monitors. Restraints, biometric scanners, IV poles, laptops, and medical machinery had been scattered on a table nearby.
“I’m taking photos,” she whispered, and I saw quick glimpses of material on screens, medical equipment, and some paperwork. She was too quick for me to read anything.
“Keep track of the time,” I whispered.
“I am,” she said, moving on.
A storage door stood ajar. She eased it open just enough to look inside and flipped on the light.
Crates filled the room, each stamped with PROPERTY OF TANGO BIO RESEARCH SOLUTIONS in bold black lettering. One crate had been opened and the lid sat askew. Barbie pushed aside the lid and peeked inside. Encased in shipping plastic were rows of collars, sleek and matte black. Thin metallic seams hinted at embedded circuitry. Beside them, foam-lined trays held hundreds of small objects no bigger than a watch battery and threaded with filaments that looked weirdly organic.
Gwen leaned over my shoulder. “Those look like various types of neural implants.”
That seemed ominous, but as this was not my area of expertise, I could do little more than shrug.
Barbie looked around and we saw rolled blueprints shoved into a corner and paper diagrams taped to the walls labeled with titles like Response Neural Pathways, Cognition Adaption Regions, Behavioral Control Circuitry, and Neurolinguistics and Semantic Mapping. One label diagram read Research Program Schedule. Today’s date had been prominently circled in red. Barbie snapped photos of everything.
At a small desk in the corner, papers were scattered across a desk. I could see Barbie shuffling through, looking for anything incriminating. Then she stopped and I heard her gasp in horror.
“What’s wrong?” I asked immediately. “Barbie?”
“Oh my God,” she breathed. “They…they have pictures of animals undergoing surgery. Dogs, cats, pigs, chimps…everything. There are graphic surgical photos of them implanting devices into their brains and their bodies. Oh, no, I think I might be sick.”
